


Life Sentence

by Banshi13



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 2.15 'Out of the Past', Angst, Childhood Trauma, Episode Related, Exes, Family, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, M/M, New Relationship, Relationship Under The Radar, Trauma, jot it down July
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banshi13/pseuds/Banshi13
Summary: “I need to do this.  I need to face him, and I want him… I want the people making this decision to know what he did, what he did to me.”  Grace hugged her father tightly, and Danny tucked her head against his neck and shoulder, protective as ever.  “Besides, I’ve learned enough from you being a cop that victim statements always make the best impact if the victim is actually there to give the statement.”





	Life Sentence

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Life Sentence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807062) by [SankaMalfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SankaMalfoy/pseuds/SankaMalfoy)



> _Author’s Note_ : This idea was bouncing around in my head for months. I decided I needed a break from writing my Season X multi-chapter story and decided to write this down for #JotItDownJuly.
> 
> I’ve so enjoyed watching Teilor Grubbs grow up on this show. They’ve given her some great material to work with, but I am hoping that, now she’s older, the writers will allow her to flex her acting chops a bit and really let her sink her teeth into a meaty script that will help transition her character from a teenager to a grown woman.
> 
> I’ve always wondered what would happen if Grace had the opportunity to meet Rick Peterson again; how would she behave, what would she say to him? That is where the genesis of this fic comes from, and while I’m not that I accurately portray what Grace would say or do in this story, I feel it’s at least plausible.
> 
> I’ve messed with the criminal justice system a little bit in order to make this fic a reality. Sentence reduction hearings are a reality in federal courts, and since Peterson would’ve been charged with kidnapping and the first-degree murder of a U.S. Marshal, the “federalities” (as I like to call them) would’ve had prime jurisdiction over his case. Halawa Correctional Facility, for those who don’t know, is run by the Dept. of Corrections for Hawaii, and some state-run prisons ‘rent’ bed space to the federal government. I’m unsure if Halawa does so, as they have a major over crowding issue and are actually flying inmates to the mainland to serve their time, however, it’s quite possible that they do and simply don’t mention it on their website. In any case, the skeleton of knowledge is accurate, while the specifics might be bent just a bit to fit the needs of the story!
> 
> _Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-0, as well as the characters found within the series, are owned by CBS Productions, K/O Paper Products, and 101st Street Productions._

"You don't have to do this, you know?" Danny's hands were stuffed in the pockets of his suit slacks, hiding the fact that his fists were clenched so tightly he was sure his knuckles were white, and the sharp slice against the skin of his palms reminded him that perhaps it was time that he cut his nails. His shoulders, the look on his face, all of it screamed 'please let's just go home now so I can bundle you up with cookies and stuffed animals and Disney movies and I don't have to watch you do this'.

"You don't need to be here; your mom, me, and Uncle Steve, we can handle this-"

"Danno." That tone, pleading, placating, and annoyed all at once combined with those eyes and that pouty lip of Grace's would never not stop Danny in his tracks. He sighed mournfully, ducking his head a bit as he felt his daughter's chin rest on a tense shoulder.

"I need to do this. I need to face him, and I want him… I want the people making this decision to know what he did, what he did to me." Grace hugged her father tightly, and Danny tucked her head against his neck and shoulder, protective as ever. "Besides, I've learned enough from you being a cop that victim statements always make the best impact if the victim is actually there to give the statement."

"Yea, but…" _It's not the same when you're involved_ , was what Danny wanted to say, but he remained silent in favor of just holding Grace tightly against him for the few more precious seconds they were alone. Rachel was on her way. Steve was parking the car. The functional and pristine hallway that seemed to inhabit every courthouse and which led to the hearing room was relatively quiet, a clerk or employee or member of the public meandering along every so often. It was time that Danny desperately needed to ground himself, because he was fairing worse than his daughter was, and she'd been the one kidnapped and locked in a storage garage for hours when she was eight years old at the hands of someone Danny had once trusted with his life. The guilt Danny felt over that for years still hadn't fully resolved itself, even though he knew it was silly to hold onto.

"Hey; this a private hug, or can anybody join in?"

Steve's attempt at humor actually helped ease the tension both Williamses were feeling. Grace pulled back, allowing Steve to tuck her against his side for brief but no less needed hug. He held her there, looking at Danny. "We still waiting for Rachel?" Danny opened his mouth to answer yes, but then caught sight of his ex-wife just down the hallway and pointed towards her. "She's here."

"I'm here," Rachel confirmed, prim dress suit, power heels, and purse all in tow as she tucked her hair behind her ears, looking at the three of them. "Are we late? Have they started?"

"They haven't called us yet, no," Danny folded his arms tightly over his chest, apprehension returning full boar, feeding off of Rachel's anxiousness. His and Rachel's misgivings about Grace testifying today were well known, documented for the record and delivered to Grace separately and together, but their implorations to simply stay home and not speak had fallen on deaf ears. Their daughter was bound and determined to look Rick Peterson in the eye and tell the man what he'd done to her, what his actions had cost her, and while Danny was supremely proud of his daughter's resolve and bravery, and even understood, to a point, why Grace insisted on showing up here today, it didn't make it any easier to tamp down on his protective nature. He caught Rachel looking at him and read her face as easily as if he were still married to her. He shook his head slightly at her and watched as Rachel's lips thinned; Grace was still going through with it.

"Grace, are you sure you want to do this?" Rachel fussed with Grace's dress and her hair, smoothing the long, brown tresses behind her shoulders. "You know you don't have to-"

"Mom, I _want_ to," Grace sighed and pulled away, her irritation with everyone spilling out of her mouth for them all to hear. "Everyone, please, I want to do this. I _need_ to do this. Okay? Please just… stop asking me not to do this." Her father and mother finally admitted defeat and backed off, choosing to coalesce with each other and Steve and fret silently amongst themselves.

Even though their marriage had dissolved 15 years ago, Danny and Rachel were still able to have conversations with their eyes; it was amazing what you could perfect when your marriage was dying but you didn't want your four year old daughter to know that. Pinched faces and crinkled eyes indicated a tense game of back and forth, with Danny's volley of 'you take her home now' being answered by Rachel's 'no, you take her home, now', and so on and so forth. Steve must have appointed himself referee as he stepped in between them, one hand on each of their shoulders, speaking in low enough tones that Grace couldn't hear what he was saying, but she hoped it was something roughly translated as, 'Back off and let her do this.'

It was the echo of sharp, heeled footsteps coming from behind the door that got everyone's attention as a professional looking woman in her mid to late fifties poked her head out from behind the door.

"Detective Williams? You and your family can come in now. The hearing will get started shortly."

Grace was the first to move forward, shoulders high and tense as she edged into the hearing room, her father behind her with a sure hand at her lower back. Rachel followed behind him and Steve pulled up the rear as he absently tugged at his tie, the only sign that he may be uncomfortable with the upcoming proceedings.

As far as hearing rooms went, it was plain and static looking. A table had been set up in the very front of the room with an identical table running along the right and left walls on either side of it. Rows of chairs four deep and five wide on both sides of the aisle provided enough space for any audience member to sit and witness the proceedings. A podium stood at the end of the aisle facing the front of the room, presumably for witnesses to speak from. While Danny, Rachel, and Grace made their way to the table lining the wall on the left, Steve made himself comfortable in the chair closest to the podium and between the table on the right. Grace frowned when she saw him.

"Why's Uncle Steve sitting over there?"

"Because Uncle Steve is going to make sure that everyone stays in their seats like they're supposed to." Danny guided her to her seat and sat down on her right while Rachel settled in the chair on her daughter's left. The woman who had escorted them into the hearing room waited for them to get comfortable while members of the hearing panel filed into the room and took their seats at the table at the front of the room. Danny immediately slipped a steady arm to rest on the back of Grace's chair, as much for her comfort as it was for his. He stole a glance at Steve and was pleased to see his partner was already training his sights on the rather inconspicuous door in the corner. Danny had been present for enough hearings to know who would be egressing the room through that particular entrance, and a few minutes later, he wasn't disappointed as a familiar, ghoulish form appeared in the threshold.

Danny hadn't seen Rick since that day over ten years ago when he'd fired the bullet that had shredded his knee. He'd been in a rage like he'd never experienced, staring down at his former partner and training officer, a man he'd once called 'brother', well and truly prepared to put a bullet through each limb if that's what it took to get Peterson to tell him where he'd stashed Grace.

Rick walked in, three-point restraints secured around his wrists, waist, and ankles which added to the limp in his gate Danny knew he suffered thanks to him. An orange jump suit hung off his wiry frame with 'HFC' printed across the back and a man who Danny assumed to be Peterson's lawyer inched in through the door just behind Peterson and the deputies who were escorting his client. Hearing a harsh intake of breath beside him, Danny slid his hand over the back of Grace's neck, offering a soothing squeeze. A look at Grace told Danny she was processing his entrance in her own way; seeing him, acknowledging him, but not allowing him anything else other than that. No crossed arms or pinched lips or tears for Rick Peterson, not from Grace Williams. Danny might be able to feel the quickening of her pulse and hear Grace's soft exhale as she took a calming breath, but his daughter would be damned if she let Peterson see any of that from her today. He knew she got that from him, that stubborn streak a mile wide and ten miles deep. In the worst situations, it could be a deadly idiosyncrasy. In the best of times, it was a stabilizing force, one which could push past fear and see a pursuit through to the end.

Danny took a fortifying breath of his own and settled in.

**Hawaii Five-0**

"This hearing is now called to order. My name is Aaron Hale; I'll be chairing today's panel. We're here today to discuss the petition in sentence reduction for Mr. Rick Peterson, an inmate at the Halawa Correctional Facility located in Aiea, Hawaii. This is a preliminary hearing, the decision of which will go before the sentencing judge for Mr. Peterson for final approval should this panel find that his petition has merit…"

The chairman's voice faded out into a perfect imitation of Charlie Brown's teacher. All Grace heard was the dull, under-water sounding tones of the man as he went around the room making formal introductions before proceeding to the agenda as the hearing required. She took a breath. The room was cool at least. Cool and bright and filled with life such as it was, unlike the storage closet the man sitting across from her had left her tied up in when she was a kid.

From under her lashes, Grace stole a glance at the figure whose face had haunted her dreams more nights than she cared to acknowledge, a face which, for a long while, had appeared as a terrifying rendition of the man who sat on the other side of the room. Grace remembered her therapist telling her after her ordeal that to protect her young mind, her brain had blocked out the face of the man who'd caused her so much trauma. For a long time, Grace could not remember for the life of her what Rick Peterson had looked like. As she observed him now though, with his thin, gaunt face and hollowed but sharp, cunning eyes, she was glad for the small favors the human brain had granted her. She didn't know how to explain it, but the man just _looked_ evil. Evil and small. And sad.

Peterson must have felt his gaze on her, because those ice blue eyes were on Grace's quicker than she could look away, gauging her, examining her, trying to… intimidate her? Grace looked down at her hands resting in her lap, fingers clinging tightly to a sheet of paper that she'd written her speech on. The paper crinkled in her grip, and it must have been louder than she thought because her Danno was right there, and she heard his soft voice whisper in her ear: "You okay?"

It was the reminder she needed that she wasn't alone. For all the bravado that she'd showed in the hallway, for however many times she'd explicitly told her parents that she was okay and that she could do this, Grace found that she needed his support, and her mother's and Steve's, more than she realized. She needed their strength and care and love to be able to swallow the lump of dread slowly growing in her throat as she listed to one of the panelists speak, knowing that her time was near. She took a breath and slid a hand into her father's lap, squeezing the hand she found there.

"I understand we have a statement from Miss. Williams that she would like to have entered into the record?"

Grace felt every single pair of eyes in the room land on her, and if she wasn't feeling anxious before, the weight of what she'd tasked herself with added to the enormity of Rick Peterson sitting _right fucking there_ and would hear every single word she read certainly did the trick. She pursed her lips, tongue darting through to wet them, and shifted in her seat, looking down at the paper clutched tightly in her hands, both of which were sweating now.

Did she really want to do this? Forget that, _could_ she do this? She was so sure this morning when she'd woken up, so sure a few weeks ago when she'd told her parents that, yes, she would be heard in person at this hearing, so certain standing outside in the hallway waiting for the hearing to begin. But now, it would be so much easier to give into her parents' wishes and just hand the panel the paper to add to the file, to leave and go home to the safety of her room at either of her parents' houses or to the tranquility of Steve's beach. Those options were looking better and better as Grace stared down at her lap, doing her level best to ignore the cold, slate blue eyes she could feel burning into her from across the room.

"Grace? Sweetheart?" Her mother's voice cooed in her other ear while her father kept hold of the hand she'd given him, using his other to brush her hair back which Grace was supremely grateful for as an apprehensive heat was flushing her neck and cheeks and contributing to making her feel anything but comfortable at the moment. Another voice and another body joined them, and Grace could sense her uncle's presence anywhere, almost as well as she could tell when her parents were about.

"Say the word and we leave, Gracie," Steve leaned over the table a bit so that his voice wouldn't carry, and Grace was more thankful for that than words could say, because it blocked the panel, and Peterson, and his lawyer, and everyone else that was staring at her expectantly. But her uncle couldn't block the expectation she'd created for herself. Grace closed her eyes, forcing herself to breath deep and slow, and opened them again after a few moments. She could do this. She _would_ do this. She owed it to herself – _Peterson_ owed her this moment, and by God, she was going to take it.

"I'm okay. I'm good," she nodded and pushed her chair back, shaking off her parents' hands and meeting her uncle's gaze straight on. "I can do this. I'm ready."

Grace made her way around the table and Steve met her on the other side, walking in front of her to the podium and reclaiming the seat just past it so that he was in between Grace and Peterson. Anyone who gave Steve a cursory glance would think he was casually observing the proceedings, but Grace knew far better, especially since her father had explained just why it was that Steve had chosen that particular chair rather than sit at the table with the rest of them. It was comforting to have a former Navy SEAL at her back just in case Peterson decided to do something stupid. Considering the man's track record, Grace thought the possibility highly likely.

Evidently, so did Steve.

"Would you state your name for the record?"

Grace laid the sheet of paper flat on the podium's surface, straightened her dress, tucked her hair behind her ears. "My name is Grace Williams."

"Thank you," the chairman nodded. "You may proceed with your statement, Miss. Williams."

"Thank you," Grace smoothed her hands over the sheet of paper again and cleared her throat. "Um…"

She was ready, but the words on the paper suddenly seemed so inadequate to what she wanted to say, for what she was feeling, what the message was that she wanted to get across to the panel before her, to the man sitting to her right whose gaze she could still feel trying to invade the stubborn wall she'd created for herself. "I… sorry," she folded up the paper and went to shove it into a pocket, but suddenly remembered her dress came with no pockets. She looked around and caught her uncle's gaze and held out the paper to him. Steve took it without a word, leaning forward to do so. "You good?" he asked softly. She nodded. "Yea, I just… I don't think I need that for this."

Grace turned back towards the panel. "Sorry, I'm ready now."

"That's alright," the chairman assured her with a kind smile. "Begin when ready."

"It's just… I wrote down everything that I thought I wanted to say when I came here. I thought I was ready, that I could just read you what I'd written and that would be good enough and I could leave," Grace folded her hands tightly together on the podium. "But I was wrong. What I wrote is what I'm feeling and what happened to me, but I can't read it word for word to you because I – I just want to tell you, from me, so I can look at everyone…" Grace steeled herself as her eyes focused on Peterson, "and so that I can look at _you_ , and tell you how what you've done has affected me."

No reaction from Peterson. That was fine, and oddly enough, it spurred her along. Grace wasn't doing this for his reaction, she was doing it for her own solace.

"I was eight when Rick Peterson introduced himself to me as a police officer, as a friend of my father's. He told me that he was sent to pick me up from my tennis lesson because my father was in the hospital and we needed to go see him. And like any eight-year-old who has an officer in uniform show up telling her that her cop-dad is in the hospital, I believed him. My tennis instructor believed him. So, I went with him and he called my dad and let me talk to him, and I didn't understand what was going on. I remember Danno – my father – asking me if I could see anything around me, if I could tell him where I was."

"And of course, I couldn't," Grace huffed out a thick laugh. "He – Peterson - put me in the backseat of a car that I could hardly see out of because I was so short, and he drove me to a storage unit. I remember asking him why we were there; I thought we were going to the hospital…"

_"Your daddy did something really bad, Gracie," Rick said as he pulled her out of the car and walked her over to the storage unit, holding onto her delicate arm with a tight hand while he lifted the door up with the other. Grace could hardly see for the darkness, but she knew instinctively that this place with this man was the last place she should be. She tried to pull away, tried so hard with every bit of strength an eight-year-old girl could possibly have. "I wanna see Danno…"_

_"Yea? Well, if Danno does everything I tell him to do, you'll be seeing him really soon, Grace, but if he doesn't, well…" Rick jerked the little girl towards him, and Grace was now struggling and twisting to get away from him, panicked and crying and begging to be let go, to see her Danno and her mommy. That lasted for all of 30 seconds before he got her into a chair and tied her tightly to it, her own legs to the legs of the chair and her arms on the rests, the rope cutting into her soft skin._

_And he left her there, alone, ignoring her hiccuping cries and her pleas for him to come back, to not leave her in the dark, to bring her mommy and Danno to her._

"He left me there for hours," Grace swallowed. " _Hours_. My tennis lesson was after school, and my dad and Uncle Steve didn't get to the storage unit until after dark. I… he didn't give me the chance to use the bathroom before he tied me up and left me, and I was petrified, so you can all imagine what that led to."

"I wasn't able to sleep without the lights on for months after that," Grace continued. "Nightlights didn't help; the room's regular light had to be on. Danno and mom would come and turn it off after I'd gone to sleep, but if I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, sometimes I'd just start crying until they came and got me, and then I'd sleep with them the rest of the night. Uncle Steve too," she looked over her shoulder, offering a lame smile his way, seeing the anger in his eyes when she did. It made her look over at her father and for all the fury she saw in Steve's eyes, it was nothing compared to the outright murderous look her Danno was shooting Rick Peterson's way, the only thing keeping him in his seat being her mother's arm wrapped around his shoulders and her free hand on his forearm, Rachel's own face a mask of pure contempt. Grace felt the fear ebb away, replaced with something else.

Anger, hot and bright and ready to be released. She turned her glare on Peterson, no longer shying away from his zoned-out stare or contemptuous smirk, and unloaded.

"Do you know what it's like to want to go to a sleepover and have to be the kid whose parents get called in the middle of the night because you have a meltdown in front of all of your friends when it's time to go to bed and the lights go out?" Grace was practically snarling; she didn't care. Peterson stared at her. She stared back. "I had nightmares where I was trapped and couldn't get away, and I had nightmares where my parents found me, and Uncle Steve found me, _someone_ found me, but I couldn't get to them because Rick Peterson – _you_ \- kept taking me away! And sometimes in those nightmares, no one ever came; I just sat there, wherever I was trapped, until I woke up, sobbing or screaming; sometimes both." Grace felt the tears coming but she stubbornly pushed them away. She'd given Peterson enough of her tears. She wouldn't let him have anymore. "I saw a therapist for years after that. Every now and again, I still have nightmares. I punched my boyfriend in my sleep one time because I dreamed I was back in that storage room again and I was trying to get away. He had a black eye for days because of it and I felt so horrible afterwards, even though he told me over and over again that it wasn't my fault."

"You took a child – a little girl you didn't know – and locked me away in a cold, dark room, tied me to a chair, and left me alone to cry and pee on myself and pray that my parents would be able to find me, all because my father was, and still is, the good and honorable and successful cop that you _wish_ you were, and because he testified against you when the Newark Police Department found out you were dirty." Grace's eyes hadn't left Peterson's, and she was inwardly a little pleased that his gaze seemed to be jumping between her and the surface of the table he sat behind. "And now you're asking for a sentence reduction?" Her voice was like bitter herbs, her face even more so, a disposition that was foreign to Grace and everyone who knew her, which may have been the reason it stung even more viciously.

The silence in the room was louder than a freight train passing through until the chairman cleared his throat gently. "Miss. Williams, do you have a request of this panel?"

"Yes," Grace finally, finally broke her glare off of Peterson and looked at panel members sitting in front of her. "People that kidnap kids shouldn't get sentence reductions. He's in jail for murder and kidnapping and a lot of other things, but he has a room that has light, and air conditioning, and he's not left alone wondering if anyone is going to come for him to feed him or take him to the bathroom. That's more than what he gave me, what he gave the air marshal he murdered, and he should have _every single day_ that he was sentenced to experience it. And when his sentence is finally up, I think he should have to leave Hawaii and go back to the mainland and stay there for the rest of his life, away from me and my family."

Her shoulders sagged. She was suddenly tired, drained even. Her hands, which had been tightly clasped together, loosened enough to realize she'd been holding them so strictly that her palms had gone white. She gripped the sides of the podium, steadying herself even though all she really wanted to do in that moment was sit down. "I have to live with what he did for the rest of my life. It's gotten better, but it's never going to go away, and I've accepted that. It might not rule my life anymore, but it's still always going to be there, somewhere. I'll always have to deal with it somehow. _My_ sentence is a _life_ sentence. It doesn't seem too much to ask that he serve out all of his."

Grace stepped back from the podium and right into a solid wall of muscle. She instinctively relaxed against it, knowing that her Uncle Steve wouldn't allow anyone stand behind her or even get close to her that didn't have his approval. The figure was too tall to be her father, and she could still see him and her mother sitting at the table they'd been shown to when she first came into the room. Process of elimination meant that it was Steve, and she was more than happy to accept the warm ocean of support his arms offered as he moved to stand solidly next to her.

"Commander McGarrett, do you or Detective Williams or Ms. Edwards have anything to add?"

"Uh, no, Sir; I think Grace here said everything that needed to be said."

"Very well. Miss. Williams, I realize that this was very difficult for you. We thank you for the courage you've shown today and for your testimony." The chairman studiously pushed his glasses up his nose. "You and your family may stay here to watch the remainder of the proceedings, or you may leave. We have your contact information; we can call you with the results of this hearing if you wish."

Grace scratched at her arm, looking up at Steve when he nudged her gently for an answer after a few long, quiet moments. Her gaze swept over to her parents, to Danno who mouthed 'Up to you', and she flashed both him and her mother a smile before turning forward again. "How long will the rest of the hearing be?"

"We have no other witnesses, and only one statement from Mr. Peterson's counsel, after which we will deliberate our findings."

Grace didn't miss the fact that the man neglected to articulate just how long those deliberations would take, but she could always leave if she found herself unable to stick around much longer. "I'll wait." This time, when she headed back to her seat, Steve followed her and took the front aisle seat closest to Danny while Grace sat herself back down between her parents, crossing her legs at the knee and straightening her dress.

She hardly paid attention to Peterson's lawyer, occasionally catching snippets of what her dad and Steve warned her the attorney would say; that Peterson had 'reformed', that he had 'remorse' for his actions, that he'd had no 'infractions' during his time on Halawa's workforce team which he'd had to wait for several years to earn a place on due to the convictions against him, and that he'd assisted Halawa's Internal Affairs Division in a variety of ways, not the least of which was giving them information about other inmates in the jail. And through it all, Grace remained silent, occasionally offering the man a sliver of her attention but for the most part gazing off to the side or staring at the plain table in front of her.

"Very well," the chairman's voice startled Grace out of her trance and looked up to see the lawyer taking a seat; she was gratified to notice that he didn't seem particularly pleased at the situation.

"We'll take 30 minutes for lunch and then another hour for deliberations and reconvene at 1:00pm." The chairman and the other panelists stood and left the room out of a side door one by one. Grace leaned back into her seat, relieved that her part in all of this was finally over and willingly allowed herself to be tugged into her mother's arms, smiling just a little as Rachel whispered how proud she was of her.

"You hungry, Monkey?"

Grace shook her head at her father. "Not really. I kind of wish they'd just figure everything out now and then go to lunch." A blur of orange in her vision moved and she found herself watching as Peterson was led out of the room, not bothering to look over his shoulder at her or her family. "He can't even look over here," she muttered. "Before the hearing started, I saw him looking at me, staring at me, trying to intimidate me, and now he can't even turn his head this way."

"Because you were so strong, Grace," Rachel smoothed her hair. "You're not the little girl he took all those years ago; you're a grown woman. You had the courage to stand up against him, and you did. Once he figured out you wouldn't shirk away, he backed down. That's what cowards do." Grace felt a kiss pressed against her head and she leaned into it for a moment before pulling back and standing up, feeling more than seeing her parents and Steve do the same. "Danno, where's the bathroom?"

"I saw it walking in; I'll go with you," Rachel, sensing that her daughter might need more than some water on her face, slipped her arm around the girl's shoulders, giving the guys a knowing look. "We won't be gone long, so please do try not to find any trouble between now and then, hm?" One might have thought her remarks were directed towards Danny, and they'd be right, but Rachel knew better than to leave Steve out of that request, and if there was any doubt that McGarrett hadn't been included, a simple look at Rachel's expression quickly doused ice cold water on that idea. Danny waited until his ex-wife and daughter had left the hearing room before looking at Steve, an inviting if somewhat mischievous look in his eyes.

"Wanna go find Peterson?"

"Danny, I can honestly say that at the moment, there is nothing I want more in the world."

**Hawaii Five-0**

If traditional law enforcement was a family, corrections officers were the cool in-laws to that family; their paths didn't cross as much or for as long as they'd like, but when they did, it was as if they were never apart. As it turned out, one of the transportation lieutenants tasked with Peterson's custody that day owed Five-0 a favor or two, and that favor was being paid right now as Danny sat across the glass from his former partner. He so wished that he wasn't separated from Rick, but he also knew it was likely for the best; Danny knew he'd been looking for any excuse to launch himself at Peterson during the hearing. Nothing would make him happier at that moment than to leave the inmate bloodied, bruised, and grievously injured.

"I didn't think I was supposed to have visitors," Rick sat slouched to the side, lax and apathetic. One might even say bored. "Pretty sure this is breaking some rules, D."

"That's cute, you suddenly care about breaking rules. That's great," Danny laughed, but it was hardly one of happiness. Disdain dripped from every word he spoke. "You care about breaking rules, and I don't care about breaking your face, so I guess it's a good thing you're on the other side of this glass."

"I want my lawyer."

"Your lawyer was unavoidably detained by Chairman Hale," Steve shrugged and gave Peterson a smile that in no way reached his eyes.

"Your lawyer, by the way, is a 26 year old recent law school graduate just using you to cut his teeth in his chosen profession," Danny informed him, rolling his hands together as he leaned forward, "so I highly doubt he's gonna have a problem with us taking a few minutes to catch up."

"Especially since I have it on good authority that he has a meeting next week that'll blow his career wide open," Steve added.

Rick shrugged. "So whaddya want then? Not that I don't enjoy the conversation and all, but I was hoping for just a few minutes of peace and quiet; jails are loud, nosy places, you know?"

"Oh, you'd know better than us, that's for sure," Danny smirked. "I just want you to know in case you had any doubt that she's okay. My daughter, my… incredibly strong, brave, intelligent little girl has lived a great life even with what you did to her. You broke me a little bit that, day, I'll admit; congratulations. But her? She's so far out of your league – so far out of _my_ league, that you never had a chance of tainting her."

"That it?"

"No," Danny stood up, "I've enjoyed watching her grow up. She's been the light of my life, and I don't know if you remember this about me, that I wasn't really big on God or 'being saved' or whatever, but that girl is my salvation, Rick. I wanted you to know that, and I also wanted to tell you that I uh, I pity you."

"Pity me?" Rick snickered. "You think that's gonna insult me, that you pity me? You always tried to be bigger and taller than you really were, D, but that's weak, even for you."

Danny's grin resembled that of a shark as he easily stuck his hands in his pockets. "No, no, no, Rick, I'm not looking to insult you. I just… I know that you don't get to have what I have, you know? You don't get to be on the outside, you don't get to spend time with your kids, watch them grow up, watch their soccer games and their swim meets and dance recitals, you know? And I uh… I got all that. I got all that and more." He could tell he'd hit his mark. Peterson's face soured almost immediately, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward.

"You know this hearing was for my sentence reduction, right?" A threat, subtle, but there none the less.

Steve actually snorted. "You're not getting a sentence reduction, Rick. Okay? And before you bring it up, 'cause we know you've asked, you're not getting moved to minimum security either. You murdered a federal officer, you kidnapped a little girl, you took a state official hostage, and you made him shoot an innocent man." He leaned forward, edging his partner to the side just a bit, just enough that he could get down low and look Peterson in the eye, uncaring for the hatred pouring out of the man's gaze. "Grace and Danny and Rachel? They've wasted enough time on you, more than enough. But me? I got nothing but time. I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure you stay locked up for the rest of your life. There's not gonna be any work release option for you either, and I promise you that when I leave here today? The first phone call I'm making is to Warden Greer asking him to get you off work force as a personal favor to me. He'll do it too. You," Steve jabbed the glass separating him from the other man, "are my new hobby. You're gonna die in prison, Rick; I promise you that. What's more, I promised the man standing beside me that." Steve wrapped his knuckles once, twice on the table before standing up and looking over at Danny, who was casually leaning against the door, just as easy as he pleased. Danny let his gaze linger on Peterson just a few moments longer, before smiling at Steve.

"You good, babe?"

Steve nodded, primping the coat of his suit jacket once.

"Well then. I uh, I guess this is goodbye, Rick," Danny scratched the side of his head before pushing off of the door and opening it, outwardly ignoring but silently preening at the defeated slump of Peterson's shoulders. Maybe he shouldn't. Maybe he should be the bigger man in this situation, but Danny was only human, and the man who had put his daughter through Hell was getting exactly what he deserved.

He was enjoying that. Sue him. He held the door open and followed Steve out, tugging his phone out of his pocket and looking at the screen. "Only ten minutes, not bad."

Steve grinned. "Is that a new record?"

"New record for what?"

"For shaking down a perp."

"Shaking down – perp, what perp, Steve? He stopped being a perp 13 years ago when we caught him and sent him to jail. He's a convicted felon now."

"Oh," Steve's face fell, and Danny was reminded of his own kids giving him that exact look when Danny would tell them that, yes, there would be a limit to how much Halloween candy they could eat in one night. "That's a totally different category then."

"What? What do you mean, what're you talking about?"

"Quickest time we've intimidated a felon is six minutes, 27 seconds." As Steve strutted off down the hallway, Danny shot an exasperated glare at his back.

"Of course, you'd time something like that, you competitive freak."

**Hawaii Five-0**

If Rachel noticed Steve and Danny's suspiciously smug expressions, she didn't say anything. Grace certainly recognized the auras that loudly broadcasted to anyone with a halfway working set of eyes that her father and uncle had both done something they were quite proud of but was also likely highly frowned upon if not pushing the boundaries of legality. Deciding she was better off not knowing, Grace chose instead to casually (blatantly) mention the date night Will had planned for her later, quietly enjoying the ripple of emotions that flashed across her father's face, not the least of which could best be described as 'kill me now'. She outright laughed when Danny audibly groaned and sidled over to loop her arms through his and rest her head on his shoulder, just like she had when she was a little girl. "It's not all bad, Danno. You like Will, remember?"

"Yea, yea," Danny mumbled, "you'll probably have to remind me of that a couple more thousand times so I don't forget."

"Well, it's nice to see that you're not over reacting," Rachel shot a sweet, if slightly sarcastic smile his way.

"You know what, you just wait till Charlie starts dating," Danny mock glared at the woman over Grace's shoulder. "I'm gonna enjoy that a lot. In fact, I'm gonna remind you of this moment right here, and all of the other times you laughed at my pain. I'm gonna take pictures and make a scrap book with footnotes."

"Daniel, I'd be impressed if you even knew where to purchase a scrap book," she dead panned back, "let alone have the patience and temperament to put one together."

"To capture those moments, you'd be surprised at the lengths I'd go to."

And with that, her parents began their time honored traditional of verbal volleyball, sans venom and hatred, and Grace looked over Danny's shoulder at Steve, who was only shaking his head at the good-natured back and forth between the exes. They shared an eye roll, but they weren't going to stop it; for one, it was hilarious. Secondly, Grace knew her parents were evenly matched when it came to the tit-for-tat, and for all of the horrible things they'd said to each other and her mother's transgressions in the past, she knew that these days when her parents picked on each other, it was done out of love and respect for what they'd once had. She'd long ago stopped being afraid of them launching an all-out war in public. Danny and Rachel had called a cease fire years ago, before their failed reconciliation led them right into a third or fourth attempt at a marriage that simply was not meant to be.

Grace slipped over towards Steve, leaving her father and mother to continue their discussion on the things each was capable of in the arts and crafts arena, and gratefully leaned into his side as he put an arm around her. "How much longer do you think?"

"Until Danny admits he doesn't know where to buy a scrap book?"

"No," Grace laughed into his shirt. It felt good to laugh after being so anxious earlier. "When do you think they'll let us know when they've decided?"

"It's only a little past 1:00pm, so hopefully not too much longer," Steve gave her a squeeze. "At least we have some good entertainment while we wait, ya know?" She nodded against him. "Yea. I'm really glad you're here, Uncle Steve."

"No where I'd rather be, Grace Face," Steve smacked a kiss on the top of her head. As he did so, the door to the hearing room opened, but instead of announcing the panel was ready, the man who'd come to collect them could only stare at Danny and Rachel, who were now on the more descriptive parts of what their own, respective scrap books would detail out about the other. "I would have at least four pages of the time you discovered test tube shots and were laid out at that party in Hoboken," Danny was telling her. Rachel gave an indignant screech. "You told me you didn't take any pictures of me at that party!"

"I didn't. Rod did and he gave 'em to me later," Danny grinned.

Grace actually felt sorry for the clerk sent to collect them. Evidently, Steve did too because he inched forward and clapped a hand on Danny's shoulder. "I hate to break up the editorial meeting for the scrap book collection you two have coming out, but they're ready for us."

If the situation weren't so serious, it would've been downright comical how quickly Danny and Rachel sobered up. All four of them filed in behind the clerk. Unlike before, the members of the panel weren't sitting behind the table, but the chairman was standing just in front of the podium. Grace looked around. "Is he going to be in here too?" No one had to guess who the 'he' was she was talking about.

"Inmate Peterson is already on his way back to Halawa," the Chairman Hale offered a smile as he looked at her, "where he will be staying for the duration of his original sentence."

"I…wow, okay," Grace felt relief flow through her all at once. "He's really not going to get out early?"

"To be honest, even before you spoke, we'd had the opportunity to look over his history and decided that unless he was near death and was desiring to return to his home state to spend his final days with his family, his motion for a reduction would've been denied." Hale shrugged, "I doubt even the death bed story would've been enough to convince us. That's happened before, you know; someone being released prior to the completion of their sentence claiming a terminal illness, being near death and years later, there they are, living at home in comfort."

"He'll spend the rest of his life in prison, Grace," Danny murmured softly to her. "He'll never get out."

"And I have to tell you, even though we'd made up our minds before hearing your testimony, if any of us had had any doubts, that would've laid it to rest," Hale held out a hand for Grace to shake. "So many victims never get the chance for their stories to be heard in their own words. I know coming here today and telling us what happened was beyond difficult, so thank you for allowing us to hear it straight from you."

With thanks from Grace and everyone else, Chairman Hale left the room and the foursome filed out into the hallway and eventually the parking lot, bright sunshine seemingly lifting the moods of all of them and, at least in Steve's case, reminding them that it was well past lunch. "My stomach's running on empty. Anybody else hungry?"

"I could eat," Danny looked over at Grace who nodded. He lifted a brow Rachel's way. "You in?"

"I… Charlie's out of school in a few hours, I thought I'd go home and eat something and wait for him there?" For all her grace and poise, Rachel's nervous ticks were as obvious as when Danny's patience wore thin. Steve saw her tuck her hair behind her ear before gripping her purse tightly, shifting it in her hold a bit as she shifted from one foot to the other. As ever, Danny's response, Steve saw (and knew was coming) was to roll his eyes. "I need you to tell me where that Biff Francis store is so I can buy a scrap book, so will you please just get in your car and follow us? Huh? Steve gets cranky when he's hungry. Please, do not make me deal with a cranky, hungry Steve. I get shot at when he's grumpy."

" _You_ get shot at when _I'm_ grumpy!?"

"I think I'll just ride with you, Mom," Grace wisely stepped away from her father and Steve and headed toward Rachel's Mercedes. Rachel simply followed her daughter, not bothering to tell Danny that the store he'd named didn't exist, but that the Ben Franklin he meant to refer to was off of North King Street. It didn't escape her notice that, as she and Grace pulled out of the parking lot, both men were still standing on the black top, bickering back and forth.

"Bloody Hell, when will they just get on with it?" Rachel muttered, looking over at Grace, who bit her lip and shook her head, more than happy now to focus on other things like her father's relationship with his danger-attracting partner and her pseudo uncle.

"I guess the jury's still out on that one."

"Well, perhaps I can speed things along."

Rachel swung the car around beside the boys and rolled down her window. "When you two are done with your flirting, Grace and I will be at the Hilton with a table ready. Just follow along once you're done with your mating ritual, hmm?" Rachel slid her sunglasses on and sped off, leaving car exhaust and two woefully confused Five-0 members in her Mercedes' wake.

Steve watched the car hang a right into the street and speed away. "So, I take it you haven't told her yet."

"It's… you know, it's on my list to do."

"Chicken."

"Absolutely. Hungry chicken," Danny headed towards the car at a good clip, which only made Steve snicker all the more as he followed behind. "Can we go now, slow poke? Huh? I've got a daughter to spoil and a scrapbook to purchase."


End file.
